One thousand and one nights
by Alba Adler
Summary: After a few years hiding in the Free Cities, Jaime Lannister returns to King's Landing to face Daenerys Targaryen and his own past.
1. Night one

**Again, I have to remind you that english is not my native language, and this story has no beta, so I'm sure it has a lot of mistakes. Sorry about that, I do my best, but if someone is willing to help me with this I'll be very glad.**

**Also, please, let me know what do you think about this story, this first chapter is very short, if you like this, the rest will be larger.**

**(And, don't worry, it won't be one thousand and one chapters ;).)**

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**One Thousand and One Nights**

1. Night One

He didn't remember the walls around the Iron Door were so tall. Perhaps because never before he had crossed them having so high probability of not get through them alive again.

Sun had been burning hard most of the day and, in the afternoon a strong and quick rain fell all over King's Landing, causing an atmosphere of discomfort. Spring was finishing and weather recklessly heralded the summer's arrival. For a man who has assumed don't survive the last winter, all that should be considered a blessing.

A cart passed by his side and splashed him with mud. The men guarding the merchandise didn't even give to him an apologetic glance. He enjoyed the anonymity. For all those men he was no more than a foreign, surely and outsider merchant came from Essos to trade.

Just a few things had changed since the last time he was there. The tower, destroyed by the fire at the King's Landing seize, had been rebuild and the main road was recently paved. Besides that, just the three heads dragon banners showed any significant difference. Life at Westeros was as unaltered with his presence as it was before with his absence.

His hair was cut short, and the silver, slow but surely, made its way between the gold that colored it. The cloak hid the stump at his right arm. And surely he had never been so far of feeling as The Lion of Lannister. He still was Jaime, a little merchant of Pentos, who was happy with a simple life, far away from the game of thrones.

But the damn game had demanded his participation and he couldn't longer refused that last game, even knowing in advance that he had no chance to win.

Recovering his mocking smile he wonder how much damage would do to the men at charge of his chase, that he was there, knocking at the door and voluntary give him in. For a long time he stood still in front a guard who was watching the entrance. For pure arrogance he chose the fiercest one. The man looked at him, angrier by his insolence than by the menace he could become.

Still then he could turn around, take the first ship available and get back to home. The man tightened his sword's hilt and glanced at him with a threatening gesture. Jaime just had to look away, step back and disappear. Get back to the only life he had enjoyed.

He tried to remember the deep blue sky, that tone deep and joyful that always reminded him a pair of eyes able to undress his soul in an instant. He took a deep breath to fill his lungs with the wet soil smell, to mud and people. He closed his eyes to focused on the sounds around him: the pigeons flight over his head, the wheels of the carts hitting the stones of the road in his eternal journey, the delicate sound of the wind ... the voices. He knew that among all the trivialities he would miss the voices most.

Even at that moment he could do that, facing no further consequences...

"I want to see your Queen, boy." It sounded more like an order than a request.

After all, he was still a Lannister, and a Lannister never beg or request. The Lannisters direct and lead.

He was the one taking the decision; he had chosen the time and the place to face the Targaryen woman. Silly, but that idea made him feels satisfied.

To his surprise the guardsman took all that with hilarity. He called out his partner and pointed out at Jaime before bow to him so dramatically that his sword scratched the floor. "¡Hey, Gion! Ser Begger asks for an audience with the Queen. Surely she will be wearing her best dress to take dinner with him, don't you think?"

Gion join his laugh to his partner's and just for a moment both forgot Jaime. He crossed his arms showing clearly his stump. The men stopped laughing and Jaime started to smile.

"I dare to say she has spent the last years of her life waiting for me. But if you don't believe me, just tell her that Jaime Lannister is here. I wouldn't be surprised if she herself come to welcome me, as soon as she knows the Kingslayer wants to send her his regards."

With no more laugh, both men take their swords quickly and aimed them to him, suddenly deemed him as a real threat. They studied him slowly: golden hair, green eyes; a stump on his right arm, cocky smile. Who else, besides the Kingslayer, could fit in that description?

He continued smiling.

At the end —and his pride was mortally wounded because of that— the queen didn't show up to meet him. However, she made him feel welcome in many other ways. She gave to him a cell at the highest of the reconstructed tower, a hard cot cover with straw, a blanket old but clean; bread, salad meat and fresh water. It wasn't bad; he stayed at more humble inns on his way to the North.

And the climax of kindness: just a chain on his ankle. He could walk his cell to corner to corner. Knowing his legs will be well exercised when his head fell out it was reassuring. All that was a real improvement compared to his previous captivities. He couldn't complain, he even had a tiny window looking to the harbor, and thanks to it, during all his first day; he found comfort imagining that if he tried very hard, he would see what was happening on the other side of the sea.

At the end of the day her Grace didn't honor him with his presence neither did his brother Tyrion. Maybe they thought necessary breaking his will with uncertainty first. He would have liked to tell them they were loosing their time because his will had never been stronger and he had no doubts. He was sure his surrender itself was a death sentence, and he was ready to face it.

That was the right thing to do —he thought looking to the sea illuminated by the last daylight—. Perhaps that was the most honorable and noble deed he has ever done; nevertheless, it was also the most painful. When the dark of his first night cover him, a great loneliness did it too.

He would save the most precious he ever had, even if that meant lose it for him.


	2. Night 3

I really need a Beta, if anyone have time to help me, please let me know.

Meanwhile, tell me what do you think about this fic, please. At least you can understand what I try to say? :S

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**2. Night 3**

To Jaime had never been fear to death the most frightening thin during his captivities. Not even torture pain and, though he wasn't particularly suited to face humiliation, what really could break him was tedium. Mortal boredom of having, as only companions, his shadow and the constant menace of his memories.

Prior his life in the free cities, his executioner have been a lot of horrors memories that he tried to hide behind reminisces of pleasure.

Nowadays, however, the ones been implacable at him were times of happiness. And for them there was no other shelter than oblivion and he couldn't forget because those precious moments were the reason he was facing his current situation. Memories gave him strength and made him stand still.

He looked up at the untouched dishes they had given to him earlier. Maybe it wasn't a banquet but the quality and quantity were beyond his expectations. He was under care of very sympathetic and generous jailers, though, until then he hadn't seen anybody besides serving girls and guards.

It was getting dark. Among the few things he always enjoyed at King's Landing its nights were at the top. Velvety skies starred and clean even in the deepest winter. He was yet watching through the window, contemplating the night when some noises came behind the door and a while after that, someone opened it. It wasn't the girl that should retire the dinner dishes, neither was a guard. The figure standing at the front of the door and approaching to him with short steps didn't raised too much over the ground. He didn't seem aged too much since the last time he saw him. Tyrion Lannister: Hand of the present Queen, Lord of Casterly Rock, his brother, and his father's murder.

For a long while they looked at each other as if that was the first time they meet. Awkward and unsure glances not knowing exactly what to do or say.

Jaime remembered perfectly the first time he saw his little brother. If he hadn't lost his right hand he was sure his little finger would be tickling as if baby Tyrion was holding it again.

Cersei stood tall, her chin up, hieratic; flaunting about her dry eyes and a dignity that didn't suit a nine years old girl who just had lost his mother. She looked more worried about give a good impression than for the chair, which from that moment, would be empty in the Casterly Rock's dinner room.

Even not wanting to mimic his sister behavior, Jaime had to admire it. He hadn't learned to pretend by then, so he didn't bother to hide the tears that freely run by his face; he didn't feel ashamed of them. Just then he was started to taste the bitter taste of loneliness, because through that hard time his only comfort was Aunt Geena's arm around his shoulders.

After the service Tywin enclosed himself in the library, don't let anybody in, and eating only enough to not starving. Nobody spoke of little Tyrion. The boy was forgotten, left to the care of his nurse wet, alone and almost hidden, as if his mere existence was a shame or a crime.

At the beginning Jaime looked for him just for curiosity. He was his little brother and he wanted to know him. The baby was wrapped in velvets and was resting in a fancy cradle, full of silks, laces and threads of gold, but alone in the dark. The baby didn't move at all. Jaime taught him sleep and opened the windows to look at him better.

Tyrion was awake and fixed his tiny and mismatched eyes at him. He stretched lightly his twisted and abnormally small legs and sighed deeply, as a grown man would do it. The first glance they crossed was enough to make Jaime understand that quite surely, in the entire castle; only his little brother could understand and share his loneliness. He kept thinking the same for many years.

When he rise up his hand to touch the baby, the boy took his little finger and held it tight, still looking at him. He smiled at his brother as he recalled his mother's words a few weeks before she died.

"You'll be his big brother and will teach him a lot of things. You're going to take care of him and protect him, aren't you, darling?" He promised it and embraced her tightly despite her huge belly.

The baby kept holding his finger and at that moment Jaime felt he was starting to love his brother and also knew that love has nothing to do with the promised made to his mother. Even though, he renewed his vow to his mother's memory and to his brother, he'd always be near to protect him.

Another oath he had broken.

Jaime looked down defeated and Tyrion took that as a clue to end the awkward moment. Before anyone could tell a word, a girl opened the door and came inside carrying a tray with wine and a couple of glasses.

Tyrion took the only available chair and order the girl serve a glass of wine to Jaime. He took it, but just drink a sip to make clear he didn't distrust him.

"Why on earth did you have to give in yourself? Why do such a stupid thing right now?" He was straight to the point. There was anger in his voice.

"Well, you know me, " Jaime sighed taking a little sip of wine "same reason I did most of the stupid things in my life: to protect someone."

"To protect Brienne?" Jaime didn't answer. He was to trust in him, but the risk it was too big. "She has never been at danger. The queen has nothing against her. She appreciate all what Brienne did at The Wall. Her only fault is been your wife and the last time I knew, surrender to the Lannister charm it was not a crime." He laughed more relaxed.

"And all brothels in Westeros must be thankful by that." Add Jaime raising his glass making a toast after Tyrion laughed at his joke.

"Did she agree to this?" His voice filled with false suspicious. He knew the answer in advanced.

Jaime had always hated that talent of his brother. He could find the rough topic at any conversation, no matter how hide it was. No, of course Brienne had never let him do such thing, even knowing for certain that it was the best thing he could do.

"Let's just say that when she knew what I was doing it was to late for her to stop me."

Every morning when he waked up, Jaime wondered how his wench should react after read his letter. Did she cry or cursed him? Or even in her rage would she had taken his entire things and through them to the mud?

"Then probably she is just about to arrive. And if I were in your shoes, brother, I'd be praying to the gods for a safe cell to keep me protected of my wife's rage." Tyrion smiled cunning. Jaime smiled briefly too.

"No. She doesn't come here." He assured him and glance away. It was safer change the subject.

Tyrion made himself comfortable in his chair, filled his glass again and pretended not to realize his uneasiness.

"You know," Tyrion went on with a chatty intonation, "long before you two reached the north, stories about you could be heard anywhere."

"The Kingslayer and his whore." Stated Jaime with annoyance.

No matter how much he and Brienne pretended be immune to gossip and rumors the cruelty of some of them still could hurt them, her mainly.

"Some of them." Agreed his brother. "There were others more… romantics. Worth of songs." He glanced at him deeply. "I must to confess, at the beginning I didn't believe all the gossip about your relationship with Brienne. Later, when I knew you got married, I doubted about your true intentions. I thought you were only looking for a safe shelter if everything else failed to you." There was no censure in Tyrion words. He spoke as a practical man who approves that reason to wed a woman, any woman.

Jaime smiled trying to conceal his bitterness and, not for the first time, he asked himself if he were someone else beside the Kingslayer, people would think he had less paltry motivation to married Brienne. Although, as Brienne always said, nobody in all Westeros would believed a man willing to married her for any other reason than the appealing incomes of Tarth.

"However, the first time I saw you together it was clear enough to me. Of course you had never consent in sharing your life with a woman without love. Actually I felt pretty stupid. Then I saw how you two can keep an entire conversation just through glances and there was no doubt left to me, you really love each other."

"Well, then I have to congratulated you. You're a very wise man. It took me a little longer understand how she feels about me." Jaime confessed without thinking.

Tyrion watched him with his eyebrows raised, but asked no more and Jaime was thankful for that.

"I'd never pictured you with a woman like that." He added after a while. "I can't think of someone more different from Cersei."

"Maybe that was exactly what attracted to me." Said Jaime, thinking it wasn't nonsense.

Time ago, when finally understood what he really felt for her, his reflections were very alike to what Tyrion has just said.

_Winter was starting to show its strength and they only had a couple of furs. They were sitting together, trying to get warm, so close to each other and to the fire that it was a wonder their clothes weren't already burned._

_It had been a long day and just as they finished to eat the wench started to doze off until she fall sleep with her head on his shoulder. The familiarity of her hair tickling his ear made him feel relaxed and calm. He carefully put her head over his knees and watched her sleep for a long while._

_He didn't believe possible someone, not even her own father who must love her so deeply, could find some beauty in her. Nevertheless, while she was sleeping, her face relaxed and the girl looked so young, sweet and naïve that spite her strength and size, he felt how the savage instinct to protect her and make her happy grew up inside him._

_It was pure reflex what pushed his hand to touch her wounded cheek. It felt uneven and cold, but not unpleasant. By the end of the brief caresses he simply knew it: he loved her. Not just like a friend or a partner at arms. He had fell in love with her._

_The learning came to him naturally, without surprise or shock. It was like being inside a maze and takes the final turn to find the exit. Like placing the last piece on the puzzle and looking the entire painting for the first time._

_When she felt his hand in her face she opened the eyes, drowsy and confused, weary, but smiling as only someone who has just have a nice dream could do it. There, in the middle of a cold forest, full of dangers, without any comforts, with no bed or any shelter, she seemed happy. She was so full of contrasts: so fierce and unappealing externally, so vulnerable and beauty by inside._

"_Go back to sleep, Brienne." He said to her softly, caressing her hair. "I'll do the first watch tonight."_

_And for once, she obeyed with no further protest. She closed her eyes and after a soft sigh she felt sleep again, placidly. Jaime kept caressing her with the naïve hope to be able to chase away her nightmares by doing that._

_She was so young and naïve, so different from Cersei. _

"Until the day his head rolled on the floor, Cersei swore that your marriage to Brienne was nothing more than a foolish gossip..."

Jaime was unable to suppress a grimace. Despite everything, he didn't find any consolation in his sister's death. Especially now when he was so close to follow her steps and face the same executioner.

"If you tell me where she is I can send for her." Said Tyrion suddenly, returning him to the present. "I would take care of her safety during the trip, she would be treated with all the respect due her rank. She could be here for your trial. You could...

Tyrion got emotional with that last sentence. He didn't find the courage to finish the line, the unsaid "see her for the last time and say goodbye" was stuck in his throat, but the implicit end of the sentence was so cruel as if he would have shouted it, or as if, with his silence, he had stamped his signature and seal to the decree with his death sentence.

"No. I'm not going to make her go through this." Said Jaime with gratitude and determination.

Brienne had already seen the man she loved dying in her arms once. Jaime wanted that in the future, when she remembered him she could hold to the good times. He didn't want his head stuck on a pike become the protagonist of his wife's nightmares.

It was safer to have her far away until everything ended, for her own good and for those other reasons, which was not yet suitable, confess to anyone.

"I'm doing all that I can to help you." Said Tyrion before leaving.

Jaime nodded.

He believed him, though he was also convinced that he wouldn't have any success. It was enough to know that he was trying. Understand that his brother's resentments were not so intense was better consolation that a vain hope.

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End file.
